


Gone

by sunflowerspaceman



Series: Sympathy for the Devil [8]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, There's some Tom/Tord if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerspaceman/pseuds/sunflowerspaceman





	Gone

There's blood and fire and bodies strewn across the battlefield. Rubble and bone crunches under the heels of Tord’s boots, and he is eerily serene. He's been in too many battles, killed too many people, burned too many cities to the ground to be shaken by this.

Until, out of the corner of his eye, he sees green.

It's easy to see, a patch of bright color among the grime and ash. His stomach drops. He thinks he hears Paul ask what's wrong, but by that point he's already running because the green isn't moving it's just laying there and he's never been religious but he's praying to God that Edd is okay, that all of them are.

He stops dead and drops to his knees, and god, Edd is so small in his arms. Blood is staining the black coat and the green hoodie he's wearing, and starts soaking into Tord’s uniform, a red patch growing and growing and making him feel dizzy and sick. So he tears his gaze away from Edd, looks up, and regrets it. A noise of horror escapes his throat.

He sees Matt first, sweet, naive Matt, who was kind and dumb and obeyed orders blindly and didn't deserve this, he didn't, he shouldn't have been here--but he was, and now he was gone. Long gone. He must've been so scared.

And then he sees Tom, and lets out a quiet sob. Bitter, angry, troublesome, clever, beautiful Tom. The visor Tord made for him is broken. So is he. He's been gone nearly as long as Matt, it seems. He didn't deserve this either.

And Tord is choking, and struggling to hold back tears, because seeing your Leader cry isn't good for troop morale, and Edd stirs and opens his eyes.

“Tord?” He mumbles. Tord forces a smile.

“Hello, Edd.”

“Where's...w-where's everyone else?”

“They're being taken care of as we speak. They're fine.” And Tord is looking at him and knows in an instant that Edd is not going to hang on for much longer.

Edd nods and smiles. “That's good.” He falls silent. “‘M hurting really badly.”

“I know. A medic is on their way. Just go to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes, I promise.” And it's a lie, and he can taste copper.

Edd smiles and nods off, and then he lets out a final breath and Tord can't breathe anymore.

Someone screams. He thinks it's him.

Paul and Patryck are at his side, suddenly, pulling him away as his throat goes raw and tears pour down his face and memories flash in his head over and over, memories of a sloppy, wonderful kiss that tasted like vodka, memories of someone painting his nails while he worked, memories of crushing cola cans on dares, and oh god he'll never see them again, never do those things again, and so he screams and he cries and when he can't scream or cry anymore he collapses in a limp bloody mess, eyes dead and flat, wine in his hand and pouring down his throat.

His fault.

This was his fault.

So he drinks.

When he has a moment where grief’s sting has been dulled, it's been days. He's still covered in Edd’s blood. He wears it like a badge as he crushes the men who ripped his friends away from him into dust.

And if he cries in the secrecy of his quarters, if he tries to drown the feelings in wine and increasingly more dangerous work, that's his business.

A few months later, Paul falls, and Patryck is grieving and so is he. And he snaps, one night, and he screams at Patryck. He blames him even though he knows that's not true. Patryck breaks down sobbing, and Tord stops dead. And it hurts.


End file.
